


SWEET INDUCED PLAN: I love this chaos you give me.

by Tia_Maria



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: (and really cute), Africa, Alcoholic!Flug, Black Hat is much more than Flug thinks he is, Dependent!Flug, Depressive!Flug, Divorced!Flug, Extremely perfectionist, First Gay Kiss, Flug has an obsessive-compulsive personality disorder, Flug is not sensible, Fun, Google it for more details, Grown-up people cry, Happy Ending, He’s problematic, I shouldn’t have written this fic, International Meetings, M/M, Mexico, Politics, Put on your seatbelts, Running away from your problems, Sex Assault, Starting a new life, This is a wild ride, Too many problems, Writing emotions in another language is so hard, and he also has a ‘dependent p.d.’, bad choices, beach, building a dependency-based relationship with a stranger, do not panic - it’s a nice fanfic, inspired by a song, neat freak, shivers, ♥, ⚣, ✓
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 08:19:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19786951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tia_Maria/pseuds/Tia_Maria
Summary: It was the best and most unexpected night of Flug's life.At first, he was alone in his hotel room, trying to not cry over self-disappointment, then, he was in the back of some random man's motorcycle shouting at the police while holding a stolen bottle of Red Label as if his happiness depended on it.





	SWEET INDUCED PLAN: I love this chaos you give me.

**Author's Note:**

> It was really fun to write this one!  
> I'm sorry for any mistakes - as some people know, English is not my main language.  
> I hope you like it. ♥️

  
  


  
Dr. Flug Slys was born in a house full of neat freaks, which led him to always carry cleaning-tissues and instinctively reorganize messy papers. He's also a perfectionist and hardworking as anyone addicted to rules and rightness could be.

So… you probably won't understand why those things happened, and, mostly, why the main character of this story - a reputed professional doctor of the science and health development staff of Mexico's government - did end up accepting this stranger's offer to donate his whole self for  _ one night _ of  _ unplanned decisions _ and of  _ pure random clutter _ .   
  


And, yes, it doesn’t make a single sense-- BUT... Let me at least try to explain what had brought our scientist to this moment.   
  
It all began in  _ February. _

Flug's romantic life had just collapsed as a result of  **betrayal** . 

His fiancée had dismissed him, confessing that she was having a romantic affair with another person for over a year. The fact that this other person was the  _ wife _ of the current head of state, or, in simple words, his  _ boss _ , further worsened the situation of the poor main character of this story.

Dr. Flug is a thirty-year-old man with a mildly obsessive-compulsive and dependent personality disorder.

He’s addicted to delivering results and granting orders. He’s addicted to clean and organized stuff. He’s a perfectionist. He’s devoted to people that are good in what they do. And he has a deep respect and utter  _ dependence  _ on those that he  _ loves _ and/or have the power to  _ control _ him.

Both his ex-fiancée and his boss were his  _ dictators _ .

And he lost  _ both _ , in one single day.

He was at the end of the cliff, not knowing what to  _ do _ .   
  


His boss - whose name does not matter - was nothing less than the government representation and therefore responsible for releasing funds and final acceptance of the national development healthy plans that our main character works on. Furthermore, to complete the sum of our scientist’s problems,  _ that man  _ had been Flug’s most respected authority for over 7 years of employment.

He followed each tiny word and recommendation that man said - because he felt the  _ need _ to grant that man’s requests. And, by doing it, he could feel that his delivered work was being given in it’s best form, almost  _ perfect _ . Nonetheless, small bits of services and researches he did under that man’s eagle eye were done exclusively because he said something that gave the intent that somehow he  _ wanted _ it - which always raises in Flug the enthusiasm to accomplish it, just so he would please the boss.

This might be a little difficult to explain but, because of both his personality disorders, Flug is especially attentive to his own professional status, mainly those ones related with higher ranked professionals - his uncontrollable submission over those people that come and go was obvious, and he might have displayed excessive deference very frequently.

At Flug's work, he was used to be called  _ names _ . Like menial-flug, yes-man-guy and footman, but, sure, all behind his back - because he was still the best scientist of the place. 

It’s just that... 

He  _ is _ addicted to rules, orders, schedules, demands, and commands. It’s something  _ necessary _ to his life, and to his happiness. Therefore, he’s also very dependent on the  _ people _ that give him these orders, rules, and demands - because he is the _ worse _ at decision-making (always aiming the perfection he can never reach, delaying his researches), he is  _ easily _ hurt by disapproval or any criticism (reinforcing the extreme focus and fulfillment on his job), and, above many other mental instabilities, and he’s utter  _ dead-scared _ of rejection and abandonment of those he  _ cares _ for.

At home, his ex-fiancée was his  _ anchor and master  _ \- they were nothing similar, but  _ completed _ each-other. She was a controlling person, mothering Flug with affection and repression, teaching him how to behave and to become a better person. They both were used to follow a serious never-too-exploited quality of  _ casual _ , always restricted to a clean and not too romantic or dirty sexual life. Expressiveness in public would be extremely uncomfortable. But, either way, they did love each other.

They were just…  _ reserved _ .

Until that day on February - when  _ Barbara _ ran away from home, holding hands with  _ that man _ ’s wife - Flug had absolutely _ no idea  _ that she was not  _ pleased or happy _ .

After all,  _ he _ was.

To Flug's utter despair,  _ that man _ , his favorite boss, simply decided that he would blame all the unhappiness of his own marriage and betrayal on the scientist's romantic inability to make his fiancée continue to love him - saying that the scientist's lack of masculinity was the main reason his wife chose another woman.

As unwanted, he was cursed with even  _ more _ bad names.

The coworkers he liked to spend some time chatting while drinking coffee, were ignoring him. The girls in the front desk and cleaning duty, were gossiping about him. The people in the warehouse and parking lot suddenly  _ knew _ about him. And then came the  _ bullying _ .

At the first days, Flug drowned in his own tears and sadness. In the second day, he went back to work because staying home would just make things worse - and occupying his mind would at least make him forget about it.

Deep down, in his last hopes, he thought he could please his boss back if he did something really nice, useful, new and phenomenal.  _ Perfect _ .

Hoping he could get at least one compliment - he did his best. Trying to get back at least one of his anchors.

A tiny little praise coming from the boss, would be enough to not drag him down to depression.

However... even spending too many extra-hours working on something he knew would be  _ terrific _ , none of his researches were being accepted. Nothing elaborated or tested by him was adopted by the government or plenary, or even received a second glance from his boss or the upper politicians. 

No team wanted him because they knew that only the fact of his name being on the papers would be grounds for  _ refusal. _

Flug was being excluded by his own few colleagues who had kept him company for years. And his salary, budget, and guarantee funds were drying up.

He wasn’t being ordered around. He wasn’t receiving tasks of feedbacks. He wasn’t  _ doing his job _ . 

No one was telling him  _ what to do _ .

Flug was going  _ insane _ .

And with it, he was developing a pretty serious depression and  _ alcohol addiction _ .

Because he had no one - and Flug is nothing if not  _ dependent _ . 

He needed to anchor himself in someone he trusted, but, as there was no one to do it, he anchored himself in  _ things _ .

In whiskey. In vodka. In wine. And in Liquors. Precisely by order.

If no one was going to order him around, or control him, he would let the alcohol do it.

Because he was  _ that _ dependent.

Flug could not help himself, and, for a few days, he refused to leave his office - forcing himself to work tireless hours so that he would not think of his ex-fiancee again and of the misfortunes that had been caused by her actions.

Dark circles beneath his tired eyes summed up his sleepless nights.

Engaging himself in other people’s research just so he would fulfill his own necessity of  _ delivering _ something, delivering  _ results _ , giving all the benefit of the credits to his former friends - it  _ pained _ him. It was consuming him little by little.

But he also needed money for the drinks…

At 3 in the morning, when he was sure no one was walking through the corridors anymore (except the security guard that just knew he was there because of the lighted light on his office, but, thankfully, never bothered to go check on him), Flug would  _ cry _ .

He would rub his fingers over his eyes, and silently feel the depression hit. Blaming it on himself, of how worthless, unprofitable, problematic, weak,  _ unnecessary _ , unloved, uncared and completely  _ useless _ he was...

As you can notice, his life fastly became a  _ mess _ .

The department of scientific and health development to which Flug take part off - was not prominent among the population of the country, though it was very important for foreign links and international diplomacy.

Like a ray of light at the end of the tunnel which was the current miserable life of the scientist, Flug's work had received an irrefutable proposal of diplomatic expansion of knowledge and researches for hereditary diseases in  **Africa** \- thus, the government eventually had to send a very skillfully professional to occupy a position as Mexico’s representative over the African triple-alliance formed by the countries of  Mozambique , South Africa and a small other country which they never really recall the name - located on the lower part of the continent, between these two former big ones.

It was not a place or a position any kind of scientist would desire.

Therefore, it was the perfect excuse to get rid of Dr. Flug Slys.

As a way to try to regain his dignity in the department (and escape the various complications that circulated his professional life), as well as perhaps try to start a new life and, hopefully, forget the misfortunes that occurred suddenly on the last three months, Dr. Flug accepted in readiness.

He didn’t even think twice on it.

He  _ knew _ what they were doing.

But he wanted it _too_.

With the right papers ready, the scientist looked a few pieces of information about the city he was going to stay while the international meeting for roles designation was taking place on,  **Maputo** . Which, from now on, he was going to serve as Mexico’s ambassador of science and health searches and development.

Flug knew Mozambique's Portuguese was very different from the little he could understand - so he bought a small travelers hand-book for communication advises that should work good enough.

As his plane approached the African continent, Flug was reading the little handbook like it was one of his favorite  _ comics _ , for the  _ second _ time - to be sure he wouldn’t screw everything up and would at least show efficiency for his new and surely-disconnected-from-his-former-life  _ boss _ .

He had never been to Africa before. Thankfully, the receptive country had time to book for him a room on the hotel they were all supposed to meet for official purposes.

He couldn’t help but notice that stereotypes had invaded his mind, and he started questioning himself about a few things. About their customs, about their laws and all.

"Gentlemen, we will reach the destination in about 20 minutes." The female flight attendant's voice echoed through the aisles of the plane, informing them of the local situation, including temperature and schedules.

Flug sighed relieved and nervous at the same time. He was now a  _ legal _ representative of Mexico, and all he wanted was to work and forget everything. Hoping, at the bottom of his heart while clenching a hand into his chest, that he could have a minimum  _ relief _ in that place.

"Thank you for flying with us. The company appreciates your preference."

Taking a deep breath as the plane landed on the runway of the local airport, Flug decided he would take that opportunity to do  _ great _ \- to make a memorable experience that would change his life.

  
  


-:-:-:-:-:-   
  


  
He should know that bad energy can change even new airs. 

Never before in his life did he have to go through such a situation. 

Normally, when a bunch of coworkers calls you for a drink, it was… to go have a  _ drink _ \- there were usually no ulterior motives or any  _ other _ meanings involved in the proposal. Especially when the hotel is full of international guests that came specifically for the new diplomacy meeting that took place less than 1 hour ago - and a lot of them was cheerfully talking about getting to know each other better.

Hiding his shaky hands and stuttering voice, the scientist would forcibly engage himself in the conversation, even with fake enthusiasm and extreme difficulty because of his personality disorder.

That he was _ trying to hide with  _ **_all his might_ ** .

He only wanted to go to his room, take a bath, clean himself, and sleep. Because the jet-lag was just worsening his stress - he wanted to meet whoever was in charge of ordering him around and follow their words by heart. He was given too much independence, it was difficult to even _ cope  _ with it anymore, especially in a  _ different country _ . He needed to know his schedules, to get comfy on his personal lab, meet his new equipment, write down the subjects and ideas he’s supposed to work on and dive in it for  _ hours _ .

Because, just with a neatly organized agenda to follow, and goals to achieve - he can feel  _ safe _ .

_ However _ , normal people want to _interact_. They  _ need _ to build confidence - especially in politics. And, by building confidence, some of them apparently think it’s a good idea to invite other countries’ representative for a drink, down in the hotel’s bar.

When the meeting ended, a couple of scientist’s had come to him, talking and chatting about this new investment they were doing on a research Flug was pretty sure he already did two years before. Extremely uncomfortable with a random person’s arm resting on his shoulder while chatting enthusiastically with another man, Flug wished he could just go to his room - which was the perfect place to  _ sleep _ .

But, deep down, he knew he was  _ alone _ . And making new friends would be good for his other P.D. half. 

The one that makes him cry every time he starts to realize there’s not a single soul to give him a _ hug _ when he needs it.

“Come’ on, we bet you will rest better after a few drinks.” Said one of the other scientists he was hardly trying to remember the name.

“Yeah!” Enjoyed another one, to the invitation. “I heard the bar here has  _ anything _ , and I always wanted to try that sweet Amarula drink.”

The ache of not having drunk a single dose of alcohol since he left North America was making him crazy in abstinence. His mouth was  _ salivating _ only thinking about it again. 

Before even realizing, his eyes were shining and he was nodding at the invitation.

… A drink would indeed help his nerves.

Sighing lowly, Flug bit his own lips and faked an enthusiastic smile.

_ “Sure.” _ He answered them. “ _ I’m in.” _

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Why was Flug  _ still trying _ ? He must have known that he was doomed to suffer much longer before he could regain peace in his life.

Apparently Edgar Hurgnes - the Italian ambassador - was mildly famous for being the worst,  _ depraved _ , gay European politician of all the Africa continent. Used to seduce and drug various minors, foreigners and even other officials of the government, but, obviously, Flug had  _ no idea _ . 

Regardless of the older grizzly man’s suspicious words, Flug was mesmerized with that liquid’s flavor - being indeed one of the most expensive whiskeys he ever tasted. As a result, the scientist had accepted gladly the man’s free drink - which led the Mexican to realize too late the other man's hidden intentions. And those other scientists that were supposed to be bonding with him at the hotel’s bar were just as shit. Opening a bottle of the same expensive whiskey and letting the Italian man take the fainted little Mexican to his merry way.

To Flug’s fortune, he’s been drinking since his ex-fiencée left him so he had built a strong enough resistance to the alcohol, the problem was that it could take him a few minutes to recover from  _ drugs _ .

When he opened his eyes he realized he was sitting in a closed toilet, slightly wet chest exposed, nipples sore and throbbing, pants pulled down to his ankles with one leg completely without it, and there was a grown-up man with silver hair and a sick lust expression on his face  _ blowing him _ .

Time froze as his eyes widened at the image.

The older man’s hands which were previously pushing the back of Flug’s knees up and apart to get more freedom of movement, were now running down the front of his own pants, humming as if enjoying the sensation.

Never in his life did that seem possible to the little scientist. 

So  _ nasty _ , so nauseating and perverted - unbelievable to imagine such thing happening to him in an expensive hotel like that one, with politicians engaged in international business meetings taking place right at the other side of the hall.

The man’s  _ sickening _ face expression was telling the doctor  _ exactly _ what he was planning to do after he finished the blowjob, pushing the slim scientist’s hips to slide over the toilet seat with skillful hands to expose him better and reaching the back pocket of his own social pants for a lube sachet.

In a panicked state, he strongly hit the man’s face with his knee, and kicked him to push the man away from his personal space. Listening to him groan in agony and pain, Flug pulled his pants back up and quickly left the tiny cubicle of the bathroom sweating cold.

Passing in front of the big mirror of the Men’s bathroom he could see how  _ abused _ he was, and the terrible sensation of weakness and desperation hit him again, making his eyes fill with tears.

He fastly ran through the corridors trying to button up his social trousers - succeeding on it but forgetting the fly open. His aim at the moment was to only stop running when he reached his room and safety. 

His hands were shaking and his head was spinning around because of the sudden run motion summed with alcohol dizziness, making him trip in his own feet multiple times on the way across the hall, corridors and up the stairs. At total, there were a few more than half a hundred official representatives booked on the hotel Flug was staying, and he’s sure a bunch of them saw the new Mexican slim scientist in a complete misfit situation with barely kept suit, wet white social shirt buttoned wrong, and messy hair pointing all the directions, his face was flushed and he was clearly crying - but he didn’t stop running.

With blurry eyes and unfocused stares, he was doomed to ungracefully knock over something or someone, which  _ happened _ and Flug  _ fell _ .

Raising his red and wet face from the random person’s well-built chest, he found himself laying over an African man, pitch-skinned as charcoal can be, suited like the many other ones in the building. He cried, even more, when that man arched an eyebrow, sending Flug an intense glare at the unkept vests and flushed facial expression of the scientist. 

Flug fastly apologized, standing on his wobbly legs and reaching a hand to his wet face, rubbing the stubborn tears away from his eyes.

He's so  _ pathetic _ .

Flug started to step away, already preparing the run again - His vision was even worsened with the new tears of shame and desperation mixed with fear, disgust and utter  _ sadness _ . Therefore, the Mexican guy started to touch the walls so he wouldn’t trip even more. 

It didn’t take Flug more than a few steps to finally get back to his own particular room. And, at the moment he locked himself inside those fours walls, his back hit the expensive wood of the entrance and his legs dropped his body’s weight at once, making Flug reach the floor quickly in a sitting position while even more tears were running down his face.

He fell to the floor,  _ weeping _ .

He felt  _ dirty _ .

He felt completely used and abused.

He was feeling worse than he felt in  _ years _ .

It was even worse than  _ before _ \- when he was home trying to recompose from the loss of his fiancée and job. At least there he knew  _ people _ ,  **_lawyers_ ** , he knew his own country’s  _ law _ , he  _ spoke their language _ , Maputo was something entirely new. 

Shit,  _ Africa _ was something entirely new and scary.

Not just fear, Flug is in  _ dread _ . He… 

He’s not sure he can make it.

\--He is going back -he’s going to the airport a-and --he’s booking the first flight back to Mexico, he doesn’t  _ care _ .

He doesn’t  _ CARE _ .

If he gives up  _ now _ \-- he might  _ not _ go mad. He might  _ not _ lose control and suicide. 

Staying might not be  _ good _ .

Deep into the core of his own self, he  _ knew _ that going back would result in a political breach of contract, and therefore Mexico might deport him back. Consequently, Flug would have no other choice but seek refuge in one of Africa’s countries. Which, might be denied because he  _ resigned from his position _ , and Flug would have to find  _ another _ country that accepted him.

He could end up  _ anywhere _ . 

He could end up in Russia or Iran. Even  _ worse _ places to be alone.

Trying to think of a way out of this mess, just makes Flug cry more.

He can’t  _ take any more _ decisions for his own personal life. 

Such an  _ arduous  _ task. Too susceptible to  _ failure _ . 

Easily broken and--

-he needs another  _ anchor  _ to think for him--

He needs-- 

He needs to give the  _ control _ to someone  _ else _ .

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Flug took a deep breath in after finishing the long bath.

He was sitting in the bed, contemplating the situations and misfortunes. The tears wouldn’t stop running down his face now and then, but he wasn’t  _ sobbing _ anymore.

Which was progress.

It took him 3 hours to open his portable business laptop. He typed and deleted probably dozens of emails before getting satisfied enough with one - he needed to specify what happened to the Department of human rights of Africa. Hitting the ‘send’ button, he finally sighed.

He was  _ not _ okay.

He won’t be okay until someone replied to this pretty long email, telling him that everything was gonna be fine and he had people to deal with this shit for him - until there, he only could wait.

Flug crackled his fingers and back. He had taken an hour bath to get rid of the horrible sensations and the sticky  **_#$ &-_ ** -... and he still feels in the border of a very  _ very _ deep  _ precipice _ filled with even worse depression and anxiety feelings.

He wanted to  _ rest _ , but his heart and body were too stressed to do it. The idea of drinking was still good, but he didn’t have guts to leave the room. So, the scientist decided to call the reception desk and order a drink.

“ _ Drinks cannot be delivered after 2 am, Sir. _ ” Answered the receptionist.

Looking at his own cellphone, he nodded absentmindedly.

_ Right _ , it’s past 2h30 already…

As in a clue, his stomach grumbled. He indeed did not have dinner.

“I-is the bar still opened?” He questioned the Hotel’s employee.

To Flug’s felicity, an affirmative reply came back.

“I-is the bar still…  _ full _ ?”

It was extremely _important_ information . Especially now that Flug was trying to avoid any  _ meetings _ .

The receptionist answered in a professional manner.

“No, Sir. The King’s there, so I presume there is no one besides him at the moment.”

Flug frowned confused.

_ Does Africa have a King? _

“R-right…” He replied, and before he could notice, he had ended the call.

_ 2h49am.  _ The Hotel’s corridors must be really empty at his hour.

Flug sweat cold, cleaning his hands of the remaining drops of exposed nerves in his clean pants - not a suit anymore, he preferred to use a much more comfortable set of clothes if he could.

Stepping in front of the locked door of his room, the scientist swallowed down his uneasiness. 

_ It’s okay, Flug. _

He tells himself as if assuring the words. 

_ They will answer your email in no time. You’ll just go there, order an entire bottle of your favorite drink and you’ll come back up, get stupidly drunk and you’ll sleep like an angel. _

Foolproof Plan.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

“I  _ had _ absolutely  _ nothing _ against same-sex couples, until the master and love of my life ruined my  **fucking** career when she decided to run away with my boss’  **_wife_ ** !” Flug’s tongue was numb, and he wasn’t sure when he started spitting all his dramatic life on a table he was sharing with an unknown man, African, as black as dark skin could be. “--can you  **believe** -?!”

“ _ What a bitch. _ ”

And, for some reason, the person was  _ paying attention to him _ . The wooden bar counter they were both sitting was nice, it smelled like burned wood and cinnamon. Or the man smelled like it, Flug wasn’t sure.

Gulping down another dose of his Johnnie Walker bottle, the scientist laughed.

“ _ Yes _ !” He said, pointing to the other man’s blurred face. He couldn’t see very well, but the little that Flug could analyze with his unstable attention was that the man was using some kind of bowler hat. “But…  **no** …” He dropped his finger, showing sadness once more, sobbing a bit while filling his glass with another dose. “Sh-she’s  **not** , I should have  _ noticed _ she wasn’t happy anymore, I-I was too  _ clingy _ , too fucking  _ dependent _ \--” Holding his eyes with a hand, Flug could feel his tears run down his face and mark his already swollen, red cheeks.

The man hummed, drinking from his own cup.

“I  _ always _ screw things up--” Rubbing at his eyes, Flug kept his running mouth spitting random confession to the still-anonymous man. “I-I can’t be left alone, or I’ll bungle my own life again and again, and ruin  _ everything _ .” Like emphasis, he hit the counter of the bar with a fist, almost knocking off the glasses on it. 

Drinking another dose, Flug sighed seeing that his blurry vision was now also getting really  _ tired _ .

He wasn’t sure why it came to this. He wasn’t someone that would just spit about his own life to anyone. Especially someone he didn’t know!

It might have happened because he was  _ exhausted _ .

Exhausted of having to deal with this much shit happening on his life. Without having no one to listen to him, to wholeheartedly give their free time to help a fellow get through his own problems, to hug and lend a shoulder for him to cry on.

Flug craved it, like he craved air and  _ another _ glass of Whiskey.

But, it might also have happened because he was drugged again? What's the  _ chance _ ?

He looked at his glass, suspiciously. Then, he looked up at the African guy at his right, who was swinging the ice in his own glass while staring back at Flug.

“You didn’t  _ drug _ me, did you?” Asking in nervousness and mildly anger, the scientist took the bottle of Whiskey in a weird hug and shove it under his own arm. Like he was protecting a precious being.

A laugh was heard, coming from the man using a hat, drinking again from his own glass of alcohol. He seemed to be enjoying the unusual situation they were having, and shook his head well-humored.

“No, I didn’t.”

Sighing in relief - which he shouldn’t do because the man could be lying - Flug assented and opened his bottle again, filling his own glass one more time.

“I’m  _ glad _ .” The scientist smiled, happy and less worried, cleaning the remaining tears stuck to the corner of his left eye. “I honestly wouldn’t forgive myself if it happened for the second time on the same night.”

Frowning and arching an eyebrow at the same time, the man sitting right beside him looked at the Mexican little guy and asked surprised.

“You got  _ drugged _ ?”

To Flug’s ultimate shame, the question was made as if it was the scientist’s own fault. (Which was at some point, but it hurt nonetheless.)

“One of the--” Biting his own lips, the doctor decided that exposing people’s name wouldn’t be a good idea. He wasn’t  _ completely _ out of his mind because of the alcohol yet. “An old man, a  _ foreigner _ ...” Half whispering and half mumbling, Flug concluded while sipping the liquid from his glass. “...tried to do me in the hall’s restroom.”

The black man’s expression was almost funny, somehow surprised and  _ worried _ , but also confused and enraged - for some reason Flug couldn’t pinpoint.

“Is he still _ alive _ ?” The deep dark voice of someone that smoked a lot questioned him. 

The scientist shrugged one single shoulder, and kept sipping from his glass. He wouldn’t go as far as kill the guy, even if his personality disorder would scream for him to beat the man  _ more _ and, if possible, probably cut his balls off. 

The idea of even touching them to cut them off was  _ bizarre _ , so he shook his head to rid the thoughts.

“I defended myself and ran.” He answered. “If I hadn't strength enough to, I’d have given up the alliance and fled back to Mexico by now.” Feeling the tip of his ears blush as his neck and cheeks reddened as well, Flug drowned the last few sips of his glass in one full gulp.

“You  _ do _ look like emotionally weak.” The man with the hat replied to him, sipping from his own glass.

“I don’t _ just _ look like it, I  _ am _ .” The alcohol in Flug’s system may have started talking instead of his own rational mind after that last dose. “You see, I am  _ problematic _ . I want things as perfect as they can be, and if they are not I try to make it better. Yet, I’m absolutely  _ unable _ to improve my  _ own life _ .” Bowing his back, Flug hit his forehead in the bar counter and groaned in frustration.

For a second, the scientist would only sense an intense stare at the back of his head.

“I guess this is a  _ self-control  _ problem.” The man with a rough, deep and harsh voice said in reply.

Flug laughed.

Lifting his head from the counter he looked at the other man’s face and, for some reason, could finally analyze it better.

The black man had yellow eyes, and shiny white teeth. All fairly pointy, in a row.

Flug gulped the sudden shiver that ran his system, like a breeze of cold air had entered his comfy and warm body.

“It is a c- **control** problem  _ indeed _ .” Flug nodded, averting eye contact. “I simply  _ can’t _ have it on my own.”

The man hummed while the scientist poured himself another dose.

“You’d rather someone else had it for you?”

The bottle of whiskey slipped his fingers and crashed on the ground of the bar. Flug’s hands were shaking and his breath froze for a moment - in  _ panic _ over the question and in  _ sadness _ over the loss of this precious drink, running away from him on the floor.

Another breeze crawled up his backbone and an ultimate shiver took him. And, until now, he blames the alcohol for his sincerity.

Flug nodded in reply to the question made.

Laughing softly, the dark man with a hat called the bartender, pulled a few dollars out of his pocket and handed them to the Hotel’s employee. Flug saw him paying for both their drinks, and instinctively frowned in worry, blushing.

The scientist shouted lowly, asking him  _ what he was doing _ \- trying to prevent the man from paying his broken bottle.

“I-I can pay my own drinks!” He said, more loudly so the man couldn’t ignore him. “D-do-don’t go thinking weird stuff just because--!”

The African black guy arched an eyebrow, and laughed, interrupting the younger man.

“Pay me back tomorrow, then.”

The man said, resting his dark blazer in an arm and walking to the entrance of the bar calmly - consequently stepping away from Flug, giving the man enough space to not panic.

As that African man left the place without another single word, the scientist frowned confused.

  
  


-:-:-:-:-:-:-

  
  


The second day of the meeting was going to take place only at afternoon, which gave Flug enough time to rest and sleep like a fucking rock throughout all the migraine that came after his system digested all the alcohol.

At first, he groaned in displease - his head hurt like hell.

A knock on the door sounded like the worst noise he ever listened to - but the smell of fresh breakfast made him get up and answer it. The pretty girl delivering his breakfast smiled at him, and wished him a good day.

Flug thanked, and closed the door again.

Looking at the tray, he saw some fruits, cheese, ham, bread, condiments and so on. Things that would undoubtedly taste wonderful. And, to Flug’s please, among it all was  _ coffee _ .

Flug didn’t remember ordering breakfast but he sure wouldn’t deny it. Right beside an orange, he could see a whiskey bottle  _ lid _ . Completely black. Printed with something small and cute, like a pretty catchy phrase. It picked his interest, but, seriously, the food was much more interesting to the hungry man.

The saliva in his mouth started to fill it with the prospection of how nice it all seemed to fit his grumbling stomach.

But he decided to fastly brush his teeth first. 

Just  _ then _ , in front of the mirror, that he remembered everything that happened in the day before - making him whine in sadness again.

_ My life sucks... _

That was precisely what he thought, a second before he put toothpaste into his toothbrush to grant himself a morning oral health.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

The Mexican guy decided to question the reception desk about the black lid they forgot in the tray and what was written in it.

The hotel’s employee, well dressed like always, looked at it curiously and smiled.

He laughed quietly, then told Flug it was a traditional African  _ gift _ meant to give clumsy people so they won’t end up dying before meeting again.

Flug frowned offended, but a blush raised to his cheeks nonetheless.

When the politician asked  _ who it was from _ , the receptionist only shrugged.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

At 2 pm., the meeting started.

At 1:45 pm, Flug was already there, sitting in his chair, playing with his phone. The people from African Human Rights didn’t reply to his email, which made him panic with the idea of seeing the Italian ambassador - Edgar Hurgnes - or any of those shitty scientists that sold him for a bottle of Whiskey.

Any  _ sight _ of them would make Flug cry, he was sure of it.

So he decided to not arrive too early, and, after entering the room, he made a beeline for his chair. He roots himself in there, not looking anywhere, for no one, just so he wouldn’t meet any suspicious or known stares.

It was a little bit difficult.

When the names of those people were being called, he flinched. It was probably pretty obvious from another person’s point of view - but he ignored it.

He ignored it all.

And, honestly, it took him quite a lot of resistance to not start crying again when  _ his _ name was being pronounced as Mexico’s most acclaimed scientist, being praised for some of his researches, and being directly instructed to work as a member of the African’s health problems solutions team established in  **Mbabane** . In the end, Flug received claps, as expected, and they all could go on to the next scientist - ignoring the trembling and flushed little Mexican guy sitting there.

He clenched his ears in a fist when other scientists were being called, and started to read some random article about Africa in his phone, just to keep his mind focused _ away  _ from the microphone.

He found out Mbabane was the main city of a small country in the middle of Mozambique and South Africa. It picked his attention, and he started to search more about it.

He found out this small country recently changed its name. And he found out about its history. It was something really nice to focus on. Some inside jokes of the country, it’s main dishes and even a few memes. He laughed quietly at some small bits, and at the end of the meeting, Flug felt a lot better.

He wasn’t shaking or in dread anymore. Instead, he decided to go visit some attractions of the city he was currently hosted in, and also near ones, before flying to Mbabane. Just to learn more about the new place he’s staying and living from now on.

When the meeting ended and all of the politicians and guests were already leaving the room, Flug decided to look around.

The sign of an empty room like that shouldn’t give him the peace it did - he was one of the last ones to leave the auditorium. 

_ Oh well, _

At least he overcame the pressure.

Thankfully, tomorrow will be  _ the last one _ . 

Just one more meeting and they were  _ done _ .

After that, Flug was going to flee to his new lab in a place called Mbabane,  _ alone _ , and hopefully make friends there. 

Friends and maybe even an  _ anchor _ .

Yeah, nice plan.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:- 

“Good, you came.”

The black man with yellow eyes and a bowler hat was there, sitting at the bar counters. Grinning at Flug as the younger Mexican guy approached the former man.

“I-I had to pay you back.” He replied, uneasy, playing with his fingers while explaining himself. “So I brought you  _ money _ .” He fastly took his wallet in hands, opening it to count on the bills. “B-but I’m not sure if you would take dollars or--”

The African man stood from the counter, and approached the scientist with his right hand inside the pocket of a dark leather jacket he was wearing - for whatever reason Flug could not guess. 

He laughed at the doctor’s sincerity.

“Save it.” Said that thick and scratchy voice, still grinning, well-humored.

The barman called their attention, showing to the man with the hat a bottle of Jack Daniels as he previously requested - Flug heard him say.

Even with the dim light of the bar, it was easy for the scientist to notice the increase in the older man’s shitty grin. Sending him a  _ look _ .

“N-no,  _ don't _ , I-- I’m not stayin--” He quickly said, already presuming the invitation.

Honestly, he didn't  _ know  _ that man. The fact that he believed in Flug and trusted that he would show up again, even ordering another bottle of Whiskey just to please the Mexican’s taste -  _ gosh _ … He missed being treated like that. He missed sitting in a bar to talk and laugh like they did the day before. He... 

He only has one more day before leaving the city.

That pitch-skinned man handed the scientist the brand new bottle, and Flug instinctively took it, hugging firmly in his chest like a new pluff teddy bear - mindlessly admiring the present.

The black man stepped away from him until he reached the back entrance of the bar, that could be accessed from outside of the building. Then, that tall African guy looked back at Flug and grinned again.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

_ That _ wasn’t in Flug’s plans.

And the way he sounded. The way he said those words. It was like a thousand little spikes were piercing his nerves and making his legs wobble.

“I-I never agreed to  _ this _ !” He shouted at the man, trying to deny whatever was happening.

“It’s just a  _ walk _ .” The man replied, pushing the door open with his own weight, while his hands were busy lighting up a cigar. “If you don’t want to, give me my bottle back.” He sent one last silent look with those yellow eyes from under the brim of his own hat, dragging the smoke in.

Flug strongly fought against his addiction and reprimanded himself about doing bad decision - going to a random place with someone he barely knew was wrong!

No good!

No more bad decisions!

Determined to deny the invitation, he decided he would give the drink back to the man, but, when Flug noticed, the pitch skinned guy had already left the building - and, through the windows of the bar, he could see him start the walk on his own.

The scientist’s personality values told him to run and give the man the bottle, before losing sight of him on the corner of the avenue or something. So, as fast as Flug could, he ran to the black guy, shouting for him to  _ wait _ . 

That he wanted to  _ give the bottle back _ . 

The other man  _ did _ stop walking, and, when Flug finally caught to him he realized he was already two blocks down the Hotel -  _ of course _ .

It was probably that person’s plan from the beginning.

“I’m happy you decided to take a walk with me.” The man laughed, exhaling the smoke from the cigar.

“I-I was not-- I mean,  _ this isn’t _ \--” While trying to recover a bit from the run (He was more sedentary than he would care to admit), he noticed that the African man was grinning at him while stepping forward and starting to walk again, down the avenue.

Flug gapped. Then he threw his hands in the air  _ incredulous _ .

At his right hand, the Whiskey was dancing inside the bottle, calling his attention.

He liked alcohol, and - even with the ultimate suspicion and mistrust - he  _ liked _ the company.

He looked back at the Jack Daniel’s trademark in front of the bottle one more time. Deep down he questioned himself if it was really going to be a bad decision if he just decided to walk with the man.

He bought the scientist his favorite drink.

Sighing, Flug gave up.

He reached the dark man while popping the lid of the bottle’s cover - taking a gulp of the whiskey directly from it.

“So, how do I call you?”

Flug finished the swallow of the alcoholic liquid and ended with a pop sound of lips living the bottle’s top. Feeling his cheeks red a bit with the sudden intensity of its strong concentration hitting his system.

Looking at the taller man walking beside him, the scientist noticed he was being analyzed seriously.

If they were finally sharing these formalities, the doctor might as well just spill it all out.

“Flug Slys, 31, Mexican, Scientist, Mentally unstable, and I know how to fly a plane.” Finishing well-humored, he laughed. “ _ Hi _ .”

The man with the hat grinned back.

“ _ Hello _ , Flug.” He replied. “My name is---” Like a weird coincidence of the destiny, a big loud truck passed across them on the street and Flug was completely unable of listening to the man’s name. But, he tried to focus again after the sound ceased to catch at least a little bit of it. “--but  _ you _ may call me  _ Ngwenyama _ , or Sir Black Hat.”

Flug wasn’t sure what happened, but he laughed and shrugged. He had no idea what the  _ Ngw-y-ama _ bit was, however,  _ really _ , It’s not like he cared enough to really remember that man’s name.

“Why, though?” He asked, trying to make conversation. “This  _ Hat _ nickname.”

The Black Hat man laughed again, smoking his cigar.

“Because that’s my company’s name.”

The scientist arched his eyebrows and nodded, understanding it.

Honestly, though, he never hears about it before. Must be something small.

“Well, if I was to choose - I’d rather be called  _ Doctor _ .” Flug raised the bottle in the air as if they were toasting the information, and took another gulp of his drink.

“Doctor it is then.”

The mood was nice, the chilly weather of the night wasn’t bad - Flug tried to ask about the man’s business and what it consisted of, but Black Hat avoided the subject by pointing at a private park. 

A…  _ park _ ?

Apparently, one that wasn’t far from the Hotel, just a few minutes down the avenue.

It was obviously empty and closed. There was a tall security grill fence surrounding it, clearly not free for use. But the black man, for some reason, decided to enter it’s area nonetheless, so he approached and climbed the metal grill skillfully.

Flug widened his eyes and tried to shout for him to stop, holding the end of the leather jacket firmly so he wouldn’t jump to the other side.

“What are you thinking?!” Asked in mid-panic, trying to understand the other man’s actions.

The black man with the hat looked at him and grinned, but he didn’t stop climbing the steel fence, making the leather jacket slip from the scientist’s fingers.

“Isn’t it  _ private _ ?!” He asked the man, already jumping and falling like a Pro into the sand inside it. Flug lost his thought for a moment to praise the other man’s skills, it was indeed a tall fence…

The dark man laughed at the scientist’s face and called him to climb it.

“I can’t do it!” Flug shouted at him.

“Of course you can,” He replied. “It isn’t that hard, really.”

“I’m weak!”

“I  _ believe _ in you.”

That hit Flug like nothing else. Out of orderly, his heart started to beat and his hands were shaking. It was sincerely one of the first times anyone ever told him that.

It also scared him.

Not meeting the expectations of that man…

“It’s too high for me to jump!” He tried once more to deny, biting his own lips as his palms were sweating in anxiousness. “W-what if I  _ fall _ ?”

The Black Hat man looked at his eyes, seriously, through the steel fence and told him with a deep, trustworthy voice.

“ _ I’ll catch you _ .”

Flug’s eyes started to get heavy with rebellious tears.

He was  _ afraid _ .

He’s afraid of being hurt, he’s afraid of not reaching the end, he’s afraid of not being able to jump or of that black man not really catching him once he did it - he was  _ dead scared _ .

He held into his wavy messy hair, trying to breathe. Trying to not show how panicky he was.

“ _ Flug _ ,” The man’s voice sounded, and when the scientist looked up, he was right at the fence. Face millimeters from the metal grill, analyzing Flug’s scared state. His yellow eyes were serious, and he wasn’t smiling. “put the bottle down.”

Like he was telling Flug what to do, step by step. The scientist unconsciously felt better.

He didn’t question it at first, he just decided to follow it.

Slowly, he put the bottle down by the fence.

“That’s it.  _ Perfect _ .” He assured the doctor, seeing his eyes shine a bit with the restrained tears.

In an even more serious voice, the black hat man kept telling Flug what to do.

Step-by-step.

“Give me your hands.”

Slowly, Flug did rest the hands on the steel grill. Holding onto one of the spaces his fingers went through. Dark long fingers touched him.

“ _ Good _ .” He said, slowly. Warm hands over the scientist’s ones and face close to his as well. Flug’s face was red and wet a bit because of the tears that wanted to get free, and the African man would just stare at it, like absorbing the view for later. “Have you ever climbed a tree barehanded?” He asked.

Flug nodded.

When he was little,  _ yes _ .

“It’s basically the same here.” The warm dark hands left Flug’s ones and a shiver took the white man’s backbone. “Come on, I know you can do it.”

Flug took a deep breath and felt better, for some reason, believing in the words.

He slowly tried to climb the fence, and by each step, he would receive a compliment.

It was good, it helped Flug. Actually… It was pretty much giving Flug the  _ strength _ to do it.

At the end of the fence, he looked down and saw the black man with his bowler hat and leather jacket looking back at him, grinning. Clapping hands.

It made Flug laugh, wholeheartedly.

But, honestly, he still had to do the worst part.

“It’s alright, I’m  _ here _ .” The man said, throwing his cigar in the sand and putting out the fire with his shoe's sole. Preparing himself in a silly position. “ _ I’ll catch you _ .”

It made the scientist laugh even more, but somehow it eased the mood and made Flug believe him.

Taking a deep breath in, he nodded and jumped.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Indeed, that Black Hat man’s arms were strong - he caught him. 

But, once in the man’s arms, Flug found himself trapped.

The man took him a few steps forward before letting the man down, and Flug flushed at the situation. He was, for a moment, carried in the arms of a random man, and he trusted said man to not let him fall - an attitude of such _ confidence _ .

Flug had not stopped to _ analyze  _ it before.

But…

Was his subconscious (in his ultimate depression and an utter necessity for company and care) instinctively anchoring himself in that stranger’s words?

When he took notice, he was being put down in front of a swing.

The swing was bright green, blue and yellow color - it reminded the scientist of his early days.

“Sit.” The taller man told him, showing the swing he wanted Flug to sit on.

For a moment, Flug frowned in worry.  _ Why _ ?

The insecurities of the scientist were showing once again, reprimanding himself for following that man’s demands.

Alright, he has being needy for a while. But he didn’t _ know  _ him.

And swings were made for kids to play, not grown-up adults!

Flug shook his head, denying.

Black Hat sighed as if Flug was just being stubborn.

“It’s just a  _ swing _ , Doctor.” The African man said, gesticulating to the structure. “You sit, I push.”

Blinking in confusion, the scientist changed his weight from one foot to another.

In his mind he decided to balance his options. He wasn’t heavy, he wouldn’t break the plastic chair of the swing, and it could be fun - but, having someone behind him makes Flug extremely exposed and it scares  _ the shit out of him _ .

“You see,” The Black Hat guy called the doctor’s attention once again, when he noticed the shorter one was looking at all the directions as if he was trying to make a scape. He couldn’t, even if he tried. The fence was imprisoning them both inside the park. And  _ of course _ it might be another little detail that African man had planned on beforehand. “since yesterday, you look  _ depressed _ .”

Like a thunderstruck, Flug widened his eyes in surprise. And slowly, his stare leveled to the yellow ones of the pitch-skinned man.

“I thought about telling you this before, but I didn’t think you would believe me.” The African guy said, non-challenged, hands back inside his leather jacket to give Flug false security.

The scientist didn’t run, didn’t step back, didn’t move at all. He stayed there, looking at the older man’s bright eyes.

He knew he had earned some respect and trust from the Mexican scientist. Making it easy to express his thoughts.

He could  _ see _ in the younger man’s face, that he  _ earned _ it  _ greatly _ .

“You are  _ languishing _ , Doctor.” The man whispered the words, convicted that was the best way to make it better understandable.

Those yellow orbs didn’t leave Flug’s widened ones for a single second while saying it. From outside, people would say their faces were much closer than necessary.

The Black Hat man raised a hand in the air, and pointed to the seat on the swing near them.

“And if you allow me, I may  _ help  _ you.”

In Flug’s mind, many were the disturbances that make his life problematic. The loss of his girl, the loss of his job, the loss of his somewhat innocence taken away from an older man’s nasty actions, his previous life wrapped in the shape of a perfect sized (now empty) house, his security and money. Damn, many were his problems indeed.

The fact that he wanted to root his feet in another place, to start a new life, was exactly because he didn’t want any problems. Especially those related to his mental instability. But, it wasn’t something he could just get rid off - his personality disorder was not  _ simple _ , although, at the same time, it didn’t bother him  _ that much _ . 

Half of Flug’s self-love told him that he wanted to be  _ himself _ . Start anew while being  _ himself _ . And it included having  _ problems _ .

“I don’t need any _ psychiatrist _ .” Flug finally said, in anger, frowning. But didn’t stepped back. Instead, he clenched his hands in firm fists beside his body. If he had the bottle in hands, he would be hugging it to his chest. “I’m perfectly  _ fine _ with my disorder.” He lied.

And he saw Black Hat’s grin and yellow eye staring back at his lie.

“I’m not trying to  _ cure _ you.” He replied, waving the fingers of the raised hand as in invitation for him to sit again. “I just want to make a point.”

Flug looked down at the raised hand, noticing the black man’s long fingers pointing at the seat. The scientist bit down his bottom lip, worried.

He didn’t know that man…

He was  _ scared _ .

Sighing, Black Hat patience was shortening by the second. Instead of a calm, grinning expression, he gave Flug an impatience one - in  _ defy _ . Staring down at the slim Mexican guy from under the brim of his hat.

Challenging the scientist to  _ not  _ follow his little request at this  _ right second _ \--

Flug wasn’t sure why he did it…

But felt the need to accomplish that silent order.

As if his body had instinctively agreed to it and put itself to accomplish the demand at the same second, just to not bother or enrage the taller man.

He widened his eyes when he noticed how fast he sat at the swing - how fast he gave up to that powerful and harsh voice. Like it was perfectly natural to his own system, to act and give to the owner of that sound what it ordered.

He’s still very much scared, though.

Flug wished he had the whiskey bottle in hands - he could use the drink to take the fear away.

“Hold on the ropes.” Black Hat’s voice came back to the better, calmer one. Still, yet, demanding Flug to do what he was telling him to. He started to push the scientist, on the swing, which made the little one instinctively hold tightly to them.

Things were a bit confusing. Flug wasn’t sure why it was happening.

Did that black man really just want to  _ play _ with him in the swing?

_ Probably not _ .

They were old enough for the situation to be a little  _ inappropriate _ . Worse being both grown-ups in a children’s playground (that is private!).

“W-which point?” Flug asked, confused, trying to go back to the previous subject. The man did say something about trying to make a point about Flug’s mental instability.

He was mildly curious.

The Black Hat man could even look like the type of a person to spill all his thoughts on someone else, but he didn’t seem to be a _ psychoanalyst _ at all.

Humming, the guy said.

“You are miles away from  _ home _ .” He started by pointing the obvious about his house and previous life back on Mexico. “You are clearly not safe being left alone.” he deducted remembering Flug’s infortunes which happened in his first day staying at the hotel. “And you said that you don’t trust yourself to control the decisions over your own  _ life _ .”

Did he?

_ Right _ . He did it.

When he was drunk, crying his heart out, completely emotionally  _ exposed _ in front of an anonymous man. 

Not  _ that _ anonymous anymore, anyway.

Flug frowned, looking down at his lap. While the Black Hat man was pushing him on the swing.

"You are a  _ brilliant _ man." Flug wasn't sure how did he know it. "Your work is neat and perfect, for as much as you are mentally stable, right?"

The question didn't need an answer.

"However, being stable is quite a task at the moment for you, since you are  _ alone _ ."

Flug felt sadness rise to his eyes.

“Still, nothing is too complicated." His words made Flug frown, in surprise. "You see, your  _ instability _ -” The man kept saying. “has a _ condition _ .”

The dark man’s hands left Flug’s back and, for a moment, a shiver took him. The scientist couldn’t guess what the man was doing, and it unnerved him. He could listen to something being pulled out of pockets and he panicked.

What was he tryin-- _?? _

The warm hand came back to his shoulder, and Flug, instinctively calmed down. Although it was obviously not an assurement.

A silk black piece of cloth was dropped in front of him, falling to his lap.

Flug picked it up, looking at and feeling the nice texture of it.

“W-what  _ is _ it?”

“A tool to help me with my point.” The black man said, serious, with both hands back at the scientist’s shoulder.

Frowning, Flug questioned the man.

“ _ What _ ?”

The Black Hat reached and took the piece of cloth back from Flug’s hands, slowly.

Then, he spread it against his own palms in front of the scientist’s face - from behind.

For a second, Flug was confused, just staring back at it.

But, when that black hand started to approach the doctor’s face, Flug blushed and started to panic once again.

“W-wha- _ what ar--?” _

The cloth reached the scientist's eyes, blindfolding him for a second and Flug shook in fear.

“S-sir Black H-hat,  _ s-sir _ ??”

His hands were gripping at the rope of the swing, and he flinched trying to deny the gesture, but he just couldn’t. The man was whispering at him to  _ calm down _ , he wasn’t doing anything weird, and to just believe in him for a second. 

He felt like he shouldn’t give up as easily as he did, but he also wanted to not panic. That man didn’t really do anything to hurt him since they met. He wanted to believe in him.

“ _ Breath _ , doctor.” He said at Flug’s ear. And the scientist shivered, feeling a blush crawl up his neck. “I need you to _concentrate_. I won’t do anything to hurt you, I  _ promise _ .” His voice was deep, roar like always, but Flug could finally notice the way it sounded.

It sounded like someone that  _ knew what he was doing _ .

“Just  _ trust _ me.”

The swing started to move again, and Flug held into the ropes, even more, stronger so he wouldn’t fall. The Black Hat man pushed him like the way he was doing before, but the sensation of being blindfolded was adding a completely new sensation to it.

Like Flug was  _ chained _ .

Incapable of doing anything.

_ Restrained _ .

And whoever was pushing him was conducting him to move forward, to feel the pleasure that was the swing.

_ They _ were in control.

Flug gasped, heavy breathing.

The sensation was really incredible. Too natural and honest.

His own mind and body were agreeing with whatever was happening.

That he wanted that.

That feeling of not  _ controlling _ anything.

“Is it nice?”

The voice asked, and Flug wholeheartedly nodded.  _ Affirming _ .

“And how about  _ this _ ?”

Flug was confused for a moment, trying to understand what that question meant. Then, his body moved forward, the warm hands left his back and didn’t appear anymore. Like Black Hat wasn’t there anymore. He tried to listen to any sound, but he just couldn’t. At his perimeter was absolute silence.

Like physic, his body started to drop velocity and the swing stopped. He wasn’t moving anymore.

There was no  _ forward _ to move to. His feet weren’t touching the ground - so he couldn’t swing by his own.

He was trapped, but in the worst way possible.

Flug started to whine, lowly.  _ Sad _ . Unhappy with his own conclusion.

He’s emotionally unstable and unable to conduct his own happiness. It wasn’t a bottle of alcohol that is going to give him that. He needed someone to tell him what happiness _ is _ first. He’s nothing but a  _ weight _ in people’s lives that needs orders to live.

He’s  _ useless _ .

It wasn’t his plan to start crying again, but some tears started to fall down his face nonetheless.

The cry ceased after a while, probably a few minutes. And Flug finally raised his shaky hands to take the blindfold off his eyes.

When he looked up with still a bit tearful eyes, he saw the Black Hat man leaning in a tree not even four meters away, smoking from his cigar. The sign, eased Flug’s pained heart, for some reason.

“I-I…” Flug listened to his own weary voice, like he was using it for hours. He sighed, tired, before trying to reply again. “I got your point.”

Black Hat grinned back at him like he was  _ satisfied _ with the outcome of his plan.

Turning off the fire of his cigar on the sand of the park, the black man approached the little Mexican scientist and took his hand, pulling him off the seat and into his own feet. Flug barely noticed he was in Black Hat’s personal space, when he sighed - the feeling of being this near to someone was really nice.

“I could use a drink, though.” He said, laughing well-humored.

The other man laughed back, studying the scientist’s face.

“Well, we still have a lot of things to do.” The African man said, pulling on Flug’s hand, away from the swing and back to the fences again.

Frowning, the Mexican guy blinked in confusion and surprise.

“W-where are we going?”

“ _ Now _ or until the sunrise?” The black man sent Flug a malicious grin over his shoulder, and laughed at the widened expression in the other man’s white face.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

At this point, Flug was completely  _ spent _ . 

When he told the man he wanted a drink, he didn’t think the man would drag him along the avenue and to every other bar until they reached back to the hotel.

He wasn’t sure  _ when _ he wore it, but he was using the leather jacket belonging to the taller man. 

And, like it was the most normal thing to do, he was also clinging in Black Hat’s right arm for support. 

His head was spinning. He mixed too many drinks.

They had passed through a casino and a brothel as well as countless bars for single shots. Entering every one of those places.

Some, to drink, others, to play something, and a few, to just sit and enjoy a presentation or live music.

He vaguely remembers explaining Black Hat how to calculate the precise time and strength necessary to score a ball 8 on a game of snooker - the villain was somehow really concentrated on learning the position necessary to reach the ball when it ended up in the middle of the desk. Flug wasn't sure how he managed to lose so many good opportunities of scoring and yet make the ball stop in the most impossible almost-unreachable places!

After a few more bars they ended up in a brothel solely because Black Hat told him he needed to forget his ex-fiancé - and getting Lap dances is the easiest way he knew how to.

Flug wasn't sure why he ended up receiving a lap dance while comfortably sitting right beside Black Hat on the couch (who was highly enjoying a glass of wine while watching). Especially that, in this country, parently, it's usual to take half of your closes off to receive the show. 

Or at least that's what Black Hat told him.

It should be the weirdest and most ridiculous situation he ever thought about getting himself into - but, somehow, it wasn't  _ that _ bad. Black man's right arm laying around his shoulders and the back of his long dark middle finger caressing his side from time to time, while taking him back to the main room after the private show, waving a hand at the barman and ordering another drink, pulling Flug to sit closely to him as they watched another mature presentation on the brothel's colorful stage - was really  _ relaxing _ .

Indeed,  _ company _ makes things much enjoyable.

He felt completely comfortable to cling into the man after that all. Walking up the avenue to the hotel he would stuff his face in the back of the African man and laugh about all the absurd shit they had done. Sometimes he would get a pat on the head in response.

Flug never realized how much  _ touch-starved _ he was...

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

“Stay  _ here _ .” Black Hat told him once they were near the front door of the hotel again. 

Leaning into one of the pillars, Flug decided he would just obey instead of entering the place.

Black Hat hasn't told him ‘ _ I’ll be right back’ _ , but Flug just knew he would appear again.

It wasn’t the alcohol telling him. It was his own instincts telling him to follow the words and  _ wait _ .

Like an obedient  _ dog _ . But he didn't care - it has been a wonderful night and completely different from what he was used to living.

He might have - between the second and the  _ seventh _ glass of tequila - told Black Hat to just take the control over his last day at that city. But, really,  _ please _ , nothing too weird or Flug might start crying again.

The dark tall man didn’t seem really touched by this prospection, which almost made Flug cry solely seeing it in the older man’s face.

Thinking on It…

That was probably the reason why he was dragged to the brothel...

With wobbly legs, Flug was trying to hold himself in a stand position, but it was a hard task even leaning against the structure of the hotel. 

He was absolutely unkempt, hair pointing to all directions, face slightly red in a permanent blush, eyelids heavy and unfocused stare - he was clearly drunk to anyone that passed by.

A bellboy showed up at the front entrance asking if Flug needed any aid, but the scientist just waved him a few words in Spanish meaning that he wasn’t really  _ fine _ , but he was trying to cope with all the unusual events that happened in the last 50 hours of his life.

Thankfully, the bellboy was really bad at Spanish, and he couldn’t really understand the scientist’s problems.

A hand on his shoulder called his attention. Flug, thinking it was Black Hat back, turned around pressing his face into the man's chest, breathing the strong scent of burnt wood that he exalted. Only that… he wasn't that big and he sure didn't smell like cheap cologne.

Thick hands grabbed his shoulder and pulled them into his chest more, muffling Flug's confused Voice.

“He's with me,” Said another voice, a voice Flug didn't like to remember. “I'm taking him to his room.” his body was suddenly trying to be dragged inside the hotel and Flug started to panic.

That man was Italian, a nasty one that goes by the name of  _ Edgar Hurgnes _ .

“S-stop! Let-let me go!!”

Flug struggled in the taller man's arms.

The man pressed a hand against Flug's mouth, silencing him. His eyes were showing how sick his thought was, looking at the Mexican guy like he waited too long for vengeance.

“ _ Hefffhg _ !!!” He tried to scream with all his might. Tears falling down his face in despair.

He screamed Black Hat's name in his mind while his body was being dragged over the hall and into the elevator. 

Once inside it, the man had to free Flug's mouth to press the button, so, in the single moment of the freedom of speech, the younger took the opportunity to yell, shout and call for help, security, Black Hat, _ anyone _ .

As the metal door of the elevator was closing, Flug could already fell a hand slipping inside his shirt and a tongue going direct to his sensible ear. He did his best on pushing the man away from him, but the sick bastard took the opportunity on Flug’s weak, slow and intoxicated situation to dodge and firmly press him against the metal wall - taking the scientist’s breath away. Making his sight blur with the force.

He started to panic, tears filling his eyes and running down his face.

He barely noticed that the metal door didn't close completely, and, instead, a black-taloned hand was seen pushing them apart. As the metal was being opened again, Flug heard the man groan in pain, and felt the Italian's hand leave his skin. 

Then, his own body was abruptly pulled to the outside of the elevator by the black leather jacket he was still wearing.

Black Hat was holding him up with an arm as the other one was pointing a gun to the European bastard. The black hand of the said arm holding him up, pushed Flug's face into his neck, preventing him from presenting and seeing his next action.

The Italian bastard grunt in anger, eyeing the black man outside of the elevator holding his prey closely and threatening to shoot at him.

“ _ What the f-- _ ” 

**_Phzzzio_ ** **.**

_ Silencer. _

_ A Muffled gun. _

After a second, only the silence persisted. Flug could see, by the corner of his eyes, Black Hat handing the gun to one of the bellboys who started cleaning it with some kind of gray tissue.

“ **-Hlambulula lokhu** **_udoti_ ** .” He said over a shoulder to the hotel's employees nearby. It wasn’t Portuguese, that was for  _ sure _ .

Flug, rubbing his eyes with a finger - cleaning the stubborn tears that didn't stop running down his face - looked up at the dark-skinned man and saw him staring down at the young Mexican's red and moistened face.

He patted Flug's head and caressed his face fondly.

“Come on.”

The scientist, clinging to Black Hat once again seeking protection, permitted the man to drag him out of the hotel again.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

A motorcycle was parked in front of the red carpet. Black Hat put his helmet on and then opened the tinted visor to stare at Flug's surprised expression.

The African man picked an extra helmet buckled to the side of the vehicle and handed the little Mexican man, telling him to put it on as well.

It took the Mexican guy a minute to understand, given his still inebriated state. Once he did, tho, he started to shake in worry.

“I  _ n-never _ \--” He tried to explain, but Black Hat rolled his eyes and  _ ordered _ Flug to put the helmet on.

His voice was much more mandatory, much less  _ calm  _ or  _ nice _ .

Flug did put it,  _ instinctively _ .

Satisfied, Black Hat sat on the motorcycle and turned on the machine. 

“Now  _ sit _ .”

Flug spent more time trying to get the impulse to throw a leg over the seat than actually getting guts to do it.

“Hold me tight,” The black man said, seeing Flug weirdly trying to position himself over the seat. “ _ Good _ .” The scientist’s hands slowly held the front of Black Hat’s shirt firmly. “Now  _ pray for our souls _ .”

The moment Black Hat turned the motorcycle around full force and fastly made an overly loud exit just to scare the Mexican man, he could feel Flug hug his body while yelling for him to slow down. He didn’t, which could be because Flug was hugging him, or just because he was messing with the man.

Maybe both.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

First, Flug thought the police siren was following them because of what happened at the hotel. But Black Hat arched an eyebrow at the worried young scientist and stopped the vehicle while grinning at Flug's dread expression.

The police guy approached them and asked something in their language, probably Portuguese but Flug wasn't sure. Black Hat answered calmly and the Mexican guy saw how the policeman swallowed dry, nervously, and left them alone just as fast.

Flug couldn't understand how all that was  _ actually _ happening.

“Who  _ are _ you?” He breathed out, unbelievable.

Black Hat sent Flug a look over a shoulder while turning the motorcycle on again.

“I am many people.” he answered, taking them out for another ride.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

After some time other police vehicles appeared hunting them down.

But it had nothing to do with the hotel, nor previous events - it was solely because Black Hat was causing  _ chaos _ in the city. 

He was driving too fast, sometimes countersteering like a pro, running on the opposite way of the route, over the sidewalk and over private property. Flug was holding a gifted stolen bottle of his favorite whiskey under an arm, like it was the source of his current happiness - loudly laughing at Black Hat’s absurdness.

The man was just  _ crazy _ , they were doomed to be noticed and hunted down by the police eventually.

But, after the first fifteen minutes with the Mexican guy hugging the taller man’s back for secure measures - Flug started to enjoy it  _ immensely _ . 

Things were just too unbelievable  _ not to _ . 

Completely the opposite of what his life had been until the day he decided to agree with the new recruitment job and work in another continent.

He found himself laughing out loud with what was happening.

The sirens were still resonating on the empty avenue, chasing them down. Black Hat was making ridiculous sounds with his mouth that would just make Flug laugh even more.

The black man would shout at the official vehicle, telling Flug to do it as well.

He didn’t even care what was happening, it was just too funny not to.

He was cursing them back, with smart bad words that were pleasing and making Black Hat laugh as well.

The wind of the night was cold but nice. They kept running over the streets of the city like lunatics, misfits, rebellions, and vandals - it was the funniest night Flug ever had in  _ years _ .

The situation made him forget why he was so sad in the last few days. It made him forget about what happened the day before and what happened in the hotel a few hours ago.

Black Hat just… he has this  _ power _ to make things better somehow.

It was a sharp, different kind of power that makes the little Mexican scientist’s eyes shine in admiration, like that dark man  _ knew  _ and planned every single step taken at the same time that he  _ didn’t _ \- because he  _ wanted _ to look messy, reckless,  _ human _ .

Meticulous but  _ instinctive _ .

Leaving havoc in the red carpet he walks on.

Flug found himself chasing that chaos he gives off, mindlessly.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Black Hat took him to some  _ awesome _ places.

Most of them were tourist attractions Flug had wanted to visit before leaving the city, and - with Black Hat to makes him company and show him around - the night was almost perfect.

It was barely 5 in the morning, lots of attractions were already closed, but… somehow, the African man just had the  _ power _ to enter. He would walk over the security guy and greet him, then they would have free access to wherever they wanted to go. 

It was indeed  _ unbelievable _ .

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

“Is that a  _ real _ starfish?” The young man asked amazed, face almost glued to the glass of the big aquarium they were visiting.

“Are there fake ones?” Black Hat laughed, laying on the floor, head resting in his hands to look at the illuminated glass like it was a big screen of a movie theater. One knee raised. As comfortable with the position as he looked like.

“Well, some people buy artificial ones to beautify their aquarium...” The scientist shrugged, looking down and laughing at Black Hat’s silly but comfortable position. He sat beside the dark man’s body and crossed his legs, admiring the colorful fishes swimming inside the glass.

Black Hat suddenly grumbled in displeasure at the comment.

“I hate artificial shit.”

Arching an eyebrow, the scientist only smiled at the view.

“... well, I hate artificial mint flavored drinks.” Flug said, laughing at the confused look the man sent him in reply. “But I  _ love  _ cinnamon flavored ones, especially on hot beverages.”

Blinking at the new information he was given, Black Hat sighed and grinned back at the Mexican guy - enjoying the conversation.

“Never tried.” He answered back. “But I might do if you provide me a cup.”

Nodding, Flug flushed slightly while complimenting himself as if joking.

“ _ Hah _ \- I’m very skillful when making coffee  _ and _ tea - I may surprise you.” The little Mexican guy hugged his own knees while concluding with the blush rising to the tip of his ears. “I… I m-miss making them...” To his former boss, friends, to his coworkers and to  _ her _ . That was the proper ending, but he couldn’t say it. “... t-to other people.” he said instead.

For a moment, the silence reigned over the place. The young man’s face was hot and his eyes were a bit heavy but he wasn’t  _ sad _ . Black Hat was there and he felt…  _ calm _ .

The black man ceased his grin after listening to  what was said and, suddenly, he raised a taloned hand to pull at the back of Flug’s shirt collar. The man shouted a bit surprised, feeling his back being pulled into the ground - once his back hit the surface, he looked at his side and saw Black Hat’s yellow eyes studying him.

“Make  _ me  _ a cup of coffee, doctor.” He barely said out loud, like a whisper he didn’t want anyone to listen except Flug himself. His thin pupil was deep focussed on the large caramel ones of the younger man.

Flug’s face felt another blush craw his already red cheeks and he shivered at a sudden slender cold breeze making touch his nape. He nods instinctively at the invitation - the idea sounded fun.

He had already confided the man over such things… Why wouldn’t he make the man some coffee, right?

Black Hat’s hand raised and pulled Flug’s face forward, which made the young man almost shout in embarrassment having some wrong deductions. His heart started to pound fastly on his chest and the Mexican man raised both hands to press against the other man’s chest instinctively - preventing the contact.

H-he wasn’t prepared for  _ that _ !

Forcibly, the pull on his head ended up making Flug’s temple rest on the shoulder of the taller black guy, as the taloned hand manhandled him to do. An arm fell across his back like a blanket and Flug instinctively inclined his face to make touch his cheeks into the other man’s chest. His head was comfortably laid down over Black Hat’s pectorals and he held the front of the dark man’s shirt - the scientist noticed that a heart was beating really fast, but he couldn’t say which of them was the owner of said organ.

Flug had clung to the black guy before, when he was drunk but… it felt different, somehow.

His face was still blushing immensely.

“S-sir? What...” He wanted to ask but a hand moved up to his hair and combed around his locks, caressing his scalp in a  _ tern _ way. Flug lost his voice for a bit, enjoying the action.

_ It felt marvelous. _

“Nap.” The man said near Flug’s temple.

And just like an order, the doctor gave up to the tiredness for a few minutes.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Once they visited almost all the places there were to visit, the sun was rising on the horizon and Black Hat took him to the  _ beach _ to watch it.

“Remember the point I wanted to make at the park?” the man asked while breathing the numbness of the early morning. “That you need an anchor to keep going forward?”

Flug hummed mindlessly, while enjoying the beautiful sunrise view, by the beach they were sitting at.

He wasn’t that drunk anymore, the cold maritime air was treating his inebriated brain.

He nodded in reply.

Black Hat was laying down, head resting in Flug’s thighs. Smoking another cigar of his, while enjoying the calm and clean atmosphere of the sea.

“I want you to be dependent on  _ me _ .”

The scientist sounded surprised at first with the prompt, and his eyes blinked slowly taking the information - his face flushed and he smiled sincerely. 

Flug, almost anesthetized by the weather and tiredness, didn’t reply for a few minutes. He could confess and say that he did talk seriously hours ago when he gave Black Hat permission to order him around. The man becomes somehow intimate much faster than any other person Flug ever met in his entire life. He was confiding in that guy instinctively for decisions - to take his mind away from trouble and sad feelings.

He could honestly say that he also wanted Black Hat to keep taking care of him, in this own confusing but fantastic way. 

However… he just couldn’t reply what his heart was telling him to.

In the yellow eyes of the man, Flug could sense seriousness - meaning his words. And, as perfect as that sounded, the little Mexican man knew it all had an expiration date, because he’s leaving the city...

Inside his chest, confusing beats were telling him to be grateful for everything that happened. Indeed, that night was one of the best ways to start anew with a completely different life - trying to live for himself… 

To unburden his problems in these events made him realize he could get over stressful shit without going insane again - even though he needed someone to order him around, he felt he could cope with waiting for someone to appear in his life again.

Until then, he could use a good friend.

Opening his smiling lips, he replied as calm as he could be - hoping that Black Hat wouldn't freak out by the delayed information.

“Sir…” Calling the other man's attention, Flug confessed, slowly. “...I’m moving to a different city in a few hours.”

With a long drag on his cigar, Black Hat hummed in reply, like he was thinking in something he wouldn’t share.

“Well, let’s pretend you  _ aren’t _ .”

Flug got confused, but he didn’t have the strength to frown. He breathed the morning air for a few moments and then looked down at the dark man’s face. Yellow eyes studying him from below, harsh expression being accentuated by the shadow made from the hat’s brim. Instinctively, the scientist’s hand rested on the brim and pushed it slightly away from those yellow eyes, illuminating them.

His white skin was contrasting with the dark man’s forehead, when Flug’s fingers caressed it for a second.

“Considering it’s an  _ assumption _ \--” He said, slowly, laughing at the other man’s dead serious expression resting on his lap. “-Then,  _ sure _ .” He whispered the next words while making touch his lips to the pitch skinned forehead. “I'd gladly have you as my  _ master _ .”

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Their departure was…

Well...

Black Hat walked Flug back inside the hotel and to his room, making sure there weren't any other unnecessary mishappens.

Once in front of the room, Flug felt uneasy. He remembered all the things Black Hat brought (and  _ bought) _ him and hasn't accepted payment back. 

It was possible that they won't meet ever again - and, honestly, leaving a friend behind is always hard.

“You should  _ rest _ .” Said the dark-skinned man, rubbing his own tired eyes. “In the end, I took much more than just a walk.”

Flug looked back at the African guy and felt his face flush.

He didn't… want to apart yet.

“It’s true.” Flug began, laughing. “But I need to confess I never thought I'd have so much fun meeting some stranger in a Bar.” He said, and kept going. “I-I found in you much more than I ever found in any other anchor. Y-you s-see… I-I--” His voice started to give out how nervous he was. “I’m really glad I g-got to meet you an-nd--” Flug felt a few tears run down his face, and he cursed how extremely weak he was. “Th-thank you for ev-veryt--”

“ _ -Fuuuuuuck _ .” The sharp voice of a pissed man made him flinch in surprise, Black Hat was rubbing hard at his face with both hands making it show a shade of redness even though his skin was almost unable to show It clearly.

Flug frowned worriedly.

“A-are you alrig--”

Yellow sharp eyes scanned his body up and down, eating him unashamedly. Flug's cheeks got a lot redder when the African guy entered the room pushing himself forcibly over the framed wood and into Flug's personal space.

The little Mexican guy stepped back to put some space between them but it wasn't too effective.

A taloned hand reached under Flug's chin, sliding through it to end up holding the side of the man's face, like a precious being. Raising Flug's head to meet his mouth in the middle, Black Hat didn't waste time and kissed the younger man.

The kiss began almost shy, Flug was completely lost - he didn't know what to do.

Black Hat reached the end of the doctor's back and pulled him closer, deepening their kiss.

The African man's mouth tasted like an expensive cigar and Flug flushed realizing what they were doing.

“I-I don't--” He tried to argue, but, for a second, their eyes met and the yellow ones simply demanded Flug's watery ones to give in. 

Because Black Hat spent hours by his side telling him what to do. Telling him to follow him. To follow his words and demands. To enjoy his touches. To give in to his touch-starving urges. To hug if he felt the need. To caress if he wanted.

Those yellow eyes already had  _ power _ over him.

_ Incondicional power _ .

“ **_Let me_ ** .”

And Flug only accomplished.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Thanks to Black Hat he was no longer traumatized by sex with other men.

He found out how pleasurable it can be. (Even though he had some difficulties in the next morning, since, apparently, the popularity of endowed African men are real.)

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Mbabane was a city outside of Mozambique. It was a city belonging to another  _ country _ .

_ Eswatini _ , as they call.

A small one right in the middle of South Africa.

His lab, though, was really big. 

He was actually the supervisor of a group -  _ four _ scientists to be more precise. But he was scheduled to work in the personal lab near the big palace hall. Some countries like to build their offices and labs near their parliament buildings so… Flug didn't get too surprised.

The house he was given to live on was somehow big enough for a whole family, which was  _ nice _ . Flug could see himself living there, he might even make this place his new  _ home _ with the time.

He was  _ content _ . Things were not a mess anymore. He could actually talk with people without being completely embarrassed about it.

Spending all that time with Black Hat indeed helped him come to his senses. 

Yes, he needed an anchor. But he knew he had one, even if he was miles and miles away. Someone that cared for him. At least a  _ little _ .

And someone that he shared his contact email with!

He's sure Black Hat wouldn't mind reading from him now and then.

So now he wouldn’t go insane and start panicking again (hopefully).

Things are going to be good.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-   
  


> _ “Good Morning, Sir! _
> 
> _ I read your email yesterday, I'm happy to know about the travel! _
> 
> _ I'm doing good.  _
> 
> _ Unfortunately, no, I haven't found an anchor yet, but things are cool. _
> 
> _ We are researching the growth of stem cells. Getting improvement! _
> 
> _ I was invited over the main palace to meet the country's Governator, tomorrow. I've heard he's kind of a King. _
> 
> _ It's funny that I work near his place but never met him. _
> 
> _ I'm actually excited (and intrigued!) _
> 
> _ How's your life? Did you manage that promotion you were trying on? _
> 
> _ Hope you did! _
> 
> _ I might get a free week next month. Shall we--” _

Flug fastly erased a few words and retyped, ignoring the blush on his face.

> _ “ Is It okay… if we met?” _

Sending Black Hat emails were always a hard task.

But the scientist never missed one single Friday without sending the man one.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"Hello, doctor.” The known smile greets him. “King of Eswatini, at your disposal," Said the tall, black man in fine robes and a long black top hat.

He reached a hand up to shake Flug’s one, but the young Mexican man froze in the spot.

It was early, the scientist had barely drunk any coffee - is it possible he was seeing delusional things?

He just couldn’t believe his own eyes.

Flug arrived at the palace alone, even if he was told his colleagues were suppose to be there as well - only the captain of the guard was there waiting for him, which put the doctor to an uneasy mood. It was supposed to be a minimum presentation of their discovery on vaccines against a local degenerative disease, something that wouldn’t take too much time but somehow the Governator liked to do it over  _ breakfast _ .

Flug was oriented to follow down the path of the hall until he reached a tall black wooden door. It opened before he could even knock and…

The little Mexican guy was just too surprised to even reply to the greeting.

Black Hat was a  _ king _ .

“I’m glad you decided to come.” He said, when Flug’s utter disbelief expression persisted for more than a minute. “ _ Please _ , come in.” Gestured him to the inside of his office.

Flug was clearly too surprised to actually take a step forward to the well-dressed Governator reached a hand to the scientist’s back and pushed him inside of the place - closing the door a second later.

Gaping some unformed words, Flug felt his face red a bit. The dark man walked closely to the little doctor and grinned, embracing his back.

The hug felt so nice Flug almost forgot to  _ reason _ the situation. 

It has been probably more than 4 months that he saw Black Hat for the last time, hugging someone was almost a painkiller to him after that many days. Turning around, the doctor instinctively pressed his face on the man’s neck, enjoying the warmth and smell - probably a little bit  _ too much _ .

“I got your email.” Black Hat said against the man’s forehead, grinning maliciously.

Flug let out a small laugh in reply.

“ _ Now  _ I can connect some dots.” 

Like how he had so much access to those places, back in Zimbabwe. Also, the free army power and  _ all _ .

Arching an eyebrow, Black Hat laughed while staring at the younger man’s eyes with his yellowish ones.

“I told you I was a King.” The scientist frowned surprised at that. “ _ Ngwenyama _ is the proper name.” Black Hat said, laughing more at the realization showing on the younger’s face. “It also means  _ lion _ .” Touching Flug’s hair carefully he joked. “And, at first, I was slow-seeking my prey as a lion would, but I got too hungry.”

Flug flushed deeply when listening to it.

Black Hat sighed, apparently starting some meaningful reasons Flug deserved to know - although himself, yet, wasn't sure if it was a good enough moment to. 

“I was in the need of a personal assistant, and you ended up being the best option I had in  _ years _ \- someone exclusively  _ dependent _ , intelligent, hardworking and ready to complete tasks. You were just  _ perfect _ not to invest on.” Black Hat, adoring the blush crawling up the scientist's neck, concluded grinning. “But, you happen to be too  _ edible _ for your own sake.”

Pushing himself away from the dark man's chest, Flug could feel how red his face was. How warm his cheeks were and his ears too.

He… haven't really thought about their night together. Even tho Flug had honestly enjoyed, he never gave it too much thought - Black Hat wanted him, It just felt  _ right _ to agree. 

He was extremely addicted to his bosses and a few professors back on his school days, so it wasn't the first time he overdid himself in exchange of helping or pleasing someone he really looked up to. (Tho having sex was indeed a first).

And he… he looked up to Black Hat.

"So…" He started, slowly, unsure of what exactly that man wanted.

The African king kept grinning at him while answering.

"Would you be my assistant, Dr. Flug?"

He couldn't  **lie** to himself at a time like that.

The scientist indeed looked up at that powerful man. 

He could even say… he  _ liked _ Black Hat.

And he decided... he wouldn't mind being with him and servicing that man either.

The man's office was warm, a big table full of edible goods of a breakfast banquet was placed near the balcony. The continental breeze made the thin white curtains of the windows dance, as if inviting him closer.

Blinking like he just noticed something fundamental to his life, he opened his mouth and asked.

“W-what can I do for you, s-sir?"

Black Hat took a moment to realize it. Then, he smiled openly. Full teeth showing.

As if his long  _ long _ plan had been successfully completed.

Slowly, his eyes shone bright - and deeply,  _ truthfully _ , he exhaled a laugh. 

“Well,  _ first _ , I’d like that coffee you promised me…” His words intoned really happy.

Flug smiled back, a bit flush, playing with the hem of his white laboratory coat.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, if you liked this - please let me know!  
> And leave a kudo. ♥️   
> Thanks!


End file.
